Thursday, June 19, 2003
Leaving on a jet plane - THE COMMENTARY
By Joseph Planta
LOS ANGELES, CA -- Having not been on a plane for about 14 years, the temptation is to hum the old John Denver song "Leaving on a Jet Plane" at the airport or after strapping yourself in the plane. It annoys the other passengers, I am sure, including me, so I don't do it.
I'm in Los Angeles, writing this, whilst waiting for the connector to go to Las Vegas. We're in Las Vegas because this weekend, my cousin Philip is getting married. At the airport I spot two noteworthy individuals. In the line up to check in, behind me was one Mark Crawford, lugging his luggage behind him. I don't notice it's him, until my Mum -- not a hockey fan, mind you -- says it's him. What do I care, it's not like he's got a Stanley Cup championship ring. Vancouver Councillor Fred Bass is on the same flight we're on. He's actually without seat, so even before our flight is being boarded, he's haggling for a seat.
As the plane slowly descends into Los Angles, the first thing you notice is the style of architecture in southern California. Sort of borrowed from the Mexican influence, you see a lot of orange. Of course you see a lot of signs. More than Vancouver, that's for sure. Being sued? Call Shapiro and Associates. Need insurance? Call this. Wanna see that? Go see that. Ads galore. We taxi into the Los Angeles airport, LAX for short, and you notice that archy sort of thing -- can't you tell architecture isn't my forte -- that we see in movies or television shows. All you need to do is paste a picture of that before you do a scene in an airport and the audience will guess it's Los Angeles in a second.
It's not that hot actually. Probably a couple degrees higher than Vancouver, and less bright. It's cloudy in Los Angeles this p.m.
At the airport I notice three fast food joints. A Burger King, a McDonald's and a Wolfgang Puck outlet. The chef to the stars also caters to the lock-jaw crowd of airport cabin mouth breathers.
They serve a meal on the plane, but having not slept a wink in the last 36 hours, I decide to not eat and just sleep. I get an hour and a half, interrupted only by Air Canada's (who operates this flight for United) bilingual stewardess who asks if I want chicken or lasagna. I decide to have an orange pop at the McDonald's at LAX, not hungry actually, just thirsty.
In-flight entertainment? Would you believe last night's edition of The National hosted by Peter Mansbridge?
Thankfully we don't have to look for our luggage. We just have to meet it at Las Vegas. Immediately I'm worried that we'll never see our bags again. My carry-on has not one outfit. What a way to go, naked in Vegas, no?
The real adventure thus far is running from terminal to terminal looking for the right gate to catch theUnited shuttle to Las Vegas. Would you believe it's 4 miles away? And we're 30 minutes away from it leaving. I manage to get the attention of a Northwest Airlines porter, who looks at my passes and chuckles a little when I tell him the flight is about a half an hour away from boarding. Thankfully, he finds it in himself to help us -- he flags a shuttle and cajoles the driver of said shuttle to take us to the right terminal.
We get there, have to walk another 2 miles to get through security. Guess what, besides walking through two metal detectors and getting padded down, we have to do so shoeless. They make us take off our shoes, and whilst we're getting examined, they run those through a separate x-ray machine. Such is the world of flight post-September 11th.
The Air Canada flight was surprisingly good. The staff was courteous and nothing terrible happened. Flying over Vancouver as we left Vancouver, it was nothing short of spectacular. On to Las Vegas now... I wouldn't mind going home just about now actually.
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An archive of Joseph Planta's previous columns can be found by clicking HERE .